As the Record Store Day limited edition multi-coloured vinyl reissue of some 20-year-old album is carefully placed on your shelf - without even being removed from its shrink wrap, of course – we can now move on and see if any of the newer music that came out on the day is actually worth anything beyond novelty value.
The words ‘novelty value’ and ‘Flaming Lips’ seem to go a little too easily with each other. And Wayne and his wilfully scruffy combo came up with what should have been a best-selling item – at least in this country: the record with actual beer in it. But sadly, the logistic difficulties and short run of the item means very few liquid-infused copies of The Story Of Yum Yum And Dragon (Dogfish Head/Warner) will likely make it here.
But we do get the typically idiosyncratic clip of the tune. Tandem bikes, blizzard, the usual human-sized bubble and so on. Song itself has some restraint, which might show a little more melodic care than the sometimes deliberately fuzzy and scrappy noise they can sometimes default to.
And then there’s the artist whose time really seems to have come. Janelle Monae has been releasing preview clips of her album for the last few weeks.
Big budget, old school, proper videos – with herself as the heir to the funk of Prince leading a chorus line of dancing vaginas, and now with I Like That (Wondaland) a soul excursion that’s all about that voice and presence in which she’s now absolutely revelling. She also knows her history, complete with a nod and call-back to TLC’s Crazy Sexy Cool thrown in at regular intervals.
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Besides the aforementioned posthumous Prince input, there are people you’d probably expect such as the omnipresent Pharrell, and some less expected: yes, that Brian Wilson.
Then there’s the band whose name you’re always going to remember – although the Americans will never cope with it: Suss Cunts. C’mon, say it with me: Suss. Cunts. Terrific. And so, this is Temper (Hysterical). A faulty relationship is examined with an odd mix of angst, acceptance, and a grumpy shrug of the shoulders. Which all leads to a perhaps surprising poppish chorus. You’re left curious about what comes next, and the sad reality they’re really going to have to change that splendid. Suss. Cunts. Genius. Could only be Australian.
And sometimes all you need is the songcraft. Which Shane Nicholson has in spades, but for whatever reason might not quite get the recognition he deserves – except from the Tamworth mafia. Which is in itself slightly odd as I remember first noticing him as sideman to Alex Lloyd, before he got country cred.
He’s just always there – which could be the very thing that works against him. Look, Even If You Were The One (Universal) is yet another piece of utter craftsman-built singer-songwriter fare, although the clip might be trying a bit hard to get noticed, as cardboard robots don’t really reflect the slightly darker thoughtfulness of the song. But whatever works.
Conversely, sometimes you have to make do with what you’ve got. Start listening to SMLXL’s Caught Up In This World (Independent) and there’s a real widescreen sweep to it. Pop classicism of the eternal model - perhaps somewhere around a line that includes the right names such as the Enz and XTC. But this is ELO on an inner-west front bar indie budget. As it wanders across the universe, you note these are simply a bunch of blokes who’ve been around the block a couple of times, know exactly what they’re doing, and getting the fine results like this by making the best of available resources.
Sydney’s Vivid festival is becoming a most wonderful place to exclusively see the now. Goldfrapp last year, the truly special St Vincent this. But apparently they can appreciate the past as well. Mazzy Star is one of those moments in time you never thought would happen again. But it is. And it’s going to be no mere nostalgia exercise – there’s even a new EP/mini-album to go with this unexpected resurrection, and Quiet The Winter Harbour (Rhymes Of The Hour) is utterly identifiable as them. It slowly and inexorably unfolds moving at a pace of its choosing, and you are happy to let it do so.
There’s also always a place for the band to do that spot at a blues and roots festival just as the sun goes down and the 44-gallon drums full or local firewood and kero hide at least some of the smell of certain combustible organic material being ingested by the audience. Papaya Tree offer that trademark mix of jazzy reggae with some horns that fit the blueprint, and Radar (Independent) shuffles along, not feeling the need to yell at you as something like The Cat Empire might.
